


something entirely different

by gilbertnorrells



Category: The Punisher - Fandom, daredevil - Fandom
Genre: Huddling For Warmth, Kastle Christmas Secret Santa Gift Exchange, Snow, blizzard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 12:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13213791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilbertnorrells/pseuds/gilbertnorrells
Summary: nothing could be seen outside the window either, just blinding whiteness that shook the very foundations of -. The blizzard began in the afternoon, continued all day and well into the night.





	something entirely different

**Author's Note:**

> merry (late) christmas, ejunkiet & happy new year! I just wish this could be longer for you, but it's quite wordy at times, sooo... but know, I do plan on working on a creature feature in the near future ;)

> No one could forget the winter of 2006, albeit for different reasons. New Yorkers experienced the fright and pain of having our roads, cabs, trains and businesses crippled by a blizzard. On the other hand, the region awoke to a milk-white morning with snowfalls transforming the landscape into a wonderland. The storm had exceeded all forecasts.
> 
> Just as in 2006, nothing could be  _seen_  outside the window either, just blinding whiteness that shook the very foundations of -. The blizzard began in the afternoon, continued all day and well into the night.
> 
>  “You’re not fine.”
> 
> Karen, for the tenth time, assures Frank that she, indeed, is fine. Unfortunately, she can barely speak for how her teeth chatter. And her face is two shades paler than usual.
> 
> She’s wrapped in so many layers of clothing and blankets she is practically swallowed by fabric. Even after three bowls of soup and two hot chocolates, each with a shot of Bailey’s, she still trembles.
> 
> “I told you not to go outside,” Frank chides. “That I’d take care of the tree.” He glances out into the living room where in a far corner stands a large, undecorated Christmas tree.
> 
> “I’ll be fine, eventually,” Karen insists. But the Christmas tree farm had been too far outside the city, the tree too full and too… sappy. About ten minutes after she’d arrived at the tree farm, it had dropped about ten degrees and the storm began. On the drive back, traffic had stopped for two hours. She’d been in the eye of the storm. There’d been – correction – there currently was so much snow outside you could place your hand in front of your face and see _nothing_ but white. She’d seen hell. And it’s white, snow white.
> 
> And with Karen’s current luck, there was a squirrel hiding in that tree somewhere. The tree laughed at her. She hated it.
> 
> Karen dips her head under the blankets and rubs her red nose, which Frank gathers must have grown colder. He almost laughs at her excessive bundling. He might have, if not for the fact that he was starting to worry. He’s never seen her in this state.
> 
> Frank has a chiding look on his face, but it quickly melts into something softer as he leans closer to observe Karen. “I thought you were used this New York weather,” he quips. “Figured Vermont must be just as bad. That’s where you grew up, right?” When he leans in closer, he observes she is past shivering. And the pale tinge to her face convinces him of his next move. “Okay, where’s that kerosene heater. You need more heat in here.”
> 
> Karen can’t help the way her lips curve up and she snorts out a laugh. Frank Castle, worry-wart. After he leaves in search of the kerosene heater, Karen slides down in her bed and melts under the blankets.
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
> * * *
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> The wind wakes Karen with a jump. Outside, Mother Nature continues to rage and howl in anger. The windowpane is frozen solid. By the darkness of the room, Karen judges it is well into the early morning. Two, maybe three? She glances over her shoulder and checks the clock on her bedside table. The time displayed reads quarter past two.
> 
> She shivers. Piled on top of her is every blanket she owns, but it still is not enough. It’s laughable, really. Every blanket in the apartment is covering her, as well as sheets and clothing yet it’s not doing the job. The kerosene heater has helped, at least. And the convulsion-like shivering has at least subsided. _Those_ had been unpleasant, for lack of a better word.
> 
> Karen looks around the room. Asleep in an arm-chair by the frozen solid window outlined by a milk-white background, is Frank. She rolls over onto her other side so she can watch him. He’d braved the cold, what with every blanket and sheet piled on top of Karen, and slept with his legs stretched out in front of him and one hand across his thigh and the other arm dangling down the side of the chair.
> 
> The appearance he usually held during the day and around other people, at least people that weren’t Karen, had disappeared. The stoic, dark and troubled, angry Frank disappeared and had been replaced with a peaceful looking Frank. Karen might even venture to say happy-looking.
> 
> “Thank you for staying.”
> 
> “Where else would I go?”
> 
> “One of your dank, dirty and cold hiding places?” Karen suggests. She tucks her chin against her chest, the blanket tickling her chin.
> 
> Frank heaves himself out of her arm chair and goes to sit on the edge of her bed. He leans close, placing his hand on her shoulder. “You look better.”
> 
> “Feel better.”
> 
> “Good. The blizzard is letting up,” he informs her. He turns, glancing out the window. “Hm. Don’t know for how long. I should go before it gets any nastier.”
> 
> He stands and makes to leave and Karen reaches a hand out to grab his, stopping him. Her hand closes around his, grasping his long, thick fingers. “Stay,” she says. He looks at her, hesitating. Because Frank really can’t deny her anything, he does something that he normally wouldn’t ever think about doing – at least, not since Maria or the kids…
> 
> Karen lifts the blankets and welcomes Frank into her bed. She nestles into his shoulder and when he reaches his arm and wraps it around her, she smuggles closer and lays her head on his chest. His hands are warm and they massage her back underneath the blankets. Her lips curve up and warmth instantly fills her chest.
> 
> “You have a remarkable gift for being at my side exactly when I need you.”
> 
> “Yeah, well, uh… you, too, Page.” He’s used to being alone, in fact, he prefers it. But with her that feeling went away. You feel a heaviness in your chest. A process of being broken and you spend your days bleeding. You can’t seem to connect to anything or anyone.
> 
> But sometimes you meet someone, and it’s so clear that the two of you, on some level belong together. As lovers, or as friends, or as family, or as something entirely different. You work, whether you understand one another or you’re in love or you’re partners in crime. You meet each other out of nowhere, under the strangest circumstances, and they help you feel alive. I don’t know if it’s proof of fate or sheer blind luck, but it’s proof of _something._


End file.
